


05. Pez

by strangeera



Series: Blew It [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, High School, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 12:58:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeera/pseuds/strangeera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>drugs, the internet, first kisses and the graveyard. donald duck pez dispenser. sterek high school au. vignette.</p>
            </blockquote>





	05. Pez

In his bedroom with all the lights off and he's on his knees between mine, sucking the absolute shit out of my dick like this means more to either of us that it actually does, you know, and his wet hand is gripping mine so tightly I feel l'm developing tumours, slowly dying of cancer. Visions of bats and black coffins on the walls – the pez in my back pocket quacks. Too much.

 

The black bats and coffins on the walls turn into black cats and black backpacks and I can hear my pulse beating out of my heart and down, through my dick and into his mouth. Connected. The pez. Black ducks on the wall.

 

With my dick in his mouth he gazes up at me those glassy black eyes; hair wet and stuck to his forehead, cheeks pink and fat, spit all over his chin and he looks so much like someone I used to know, somebody who isn't coming back – that I almost take off the headphones (the soundtrack: Youth by Citizen) and ask him to stop because this is maybe too much and I might be having a panic attack? Whatever though. THAT MOUTH. The image on the wall is now a bloody nose and a thick, wet mouth that is kind of seriously freaking me out and so maybe I can't breathe, maybe we're both drowning in spit and sweat and come but it doesn't matter because he's still holding my hand and the vibe between my legs makes me feel like I'm dead already but like, in a reallygr eat way yyjrtdtrdtryuy.

 

The empty Donald Duck pez in my back pocket digs into my thigh painfully, burning hot, always reminding me of the person I was before and everything that's changed and I'm still so fucking anxious and strange feeling, basically verging, and his hand in mine is too fucking much, so I slide my hand out of his hand and finger the stupid pez dispenser in my back pocket until it stops glowing and I feel better.

 

The bloody nose and mouth hovers, dilates. I'm still fingering the pez and I think I'll be okay but that mouth, both of them. The pez actually sighs. I'm thinking about whether I want to come in Derek's mouth, like would he be okay with that, or all over his face maybe, like my fuck you, to him - or his stupid fucking hair, or wherever. I like Derek but like, the idea of making Derek feel bad kind of wow, really turns me on man. But why.

 

 

I wake up. The old pez next to the black wii controller watches me accusingly from the night stand. Whatever. My mom's dead.

 

-

 

We're laying on Stiles' bed in his bedroom, and Stiles is smoking a joint and flicking through websites, searching for “the perfect chino shorts” and he's shirtless. I'm feeling weird today so I take a really deep hit on the joint when he passes it and lay back on the bed with my arms behind my head and just listen to him talk for a while, kind of zoning and that's when I see the blue hat sticking out of his back pocket. “What's that?” I ask. The bed is basically wet with sweat.

 

“What?” he asks, and I say: “that blue thing. Your back pocket.” The atmosphere in the room compresses. “That. That's nothing,” he says, and then: “so, I want a pair that are kind of tight, I mean, not really tight, but tight, you know. Freyed edges? I don't know man. Are you crazy?”

 

“What is that?” I ask.

 

“That is fucking nothing,” he says.


End file.
